


swear this one you'll save

by enamuko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Fluff, M/M, Post-War, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: Claude makes one of his many poorly explained visits to Fhirdiad, struggling to hide the fact from both his own people and the people of Fodlan that he and Dimitri are in a relationship. Unfortunately, Fodlan nobles can't mind their own business when it comes to their king's love life, and Dimitri and Claude have to decide whether to continue with the charade of not being together while Dimitri is nagged towards marriage, or whether to let the chips fall where they may.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Dimiclaude! I hope I write Claude well, this was my first experience with that as well. Also I use Khalid at one point, but he's still referred to as Claude for the majority of the fic. He seems at ease enough with the name in-game that I figure he wouldn't care which one people used.

If you were to sit Claude down and ask him to write a list of his favourite places, Fhirdiad would… _Not_ be high on it. It was bleak, utilitarian, and _cold_ , so much so that Claude usually spent most of his time there that wasn’t devoted to going to meetings and doing the usual politicking huddled up in his room wrapped in furs with a roaring fire.

Of course, there were _other_ things he liked about Fhirdiad that made up for the weather— things that kept him coming back even when he didn’t exactly _need_ to, which was why he was sitting at his desk in his usual room in the royal castle of Fhirdiad, penning two letters— one to his father, making up an excuse for why he had departed so suddenly for Fodlan without warning him, and one to Nader, apologizing for leaving him with the job of explaining to his parents why he had just suddenly disappeared.

He was in the middle of writing out some flimsy excuse about how it was important for a delegate of Almyra to be there while Fodlan was trying to forge bonds with other countries and groups of people— Sylvain had several delegates from the Srengese tribes closest to the border visiting for reparations and peace talks, while Dimitri was in the middle of the reparations for Duscur— that he hoped his father would be fooled by, but even if he wasn’t (like he knew his mother would certainly _not_ be), he felt like he deserved points for trying.

His letter writing was interrupted by a knock at the door and a hesitant, “Claude? Are you awake? May I come in?”

Claude didn’t want to seem _overeager_ , so even though he nearly knocked his chair over in his haste to get up and answer the door, he made sure he was calm and collected by the time he actually opened the door.

“Evening, Dimitri.” Claude leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and tilting his head while he gave what he hoped was a casual sort of smile. “Working late?”

“I apologize if I’m keeping you up.”

“Not at all.” Claude stepped back out of the doorway, holding his arm out. “Come on in.”

Dimitri bowed his head to him as he stepped inside, as overly formal as ever, which was as charming as it was frustrating. Claude was willing to let it slide this time, though.

(When Dimitri stepped inside, he not only closed the door behind him, but double and triple checked to make sure it was locked— if there was one thing he really liked about Fhirdiad, it was that the castle had _wonderfully_ secure rooms.)

“I’m sorry for the late visit,” Dimitri said, and before Claude could say he was repeating himself, he continued with, “I was caught up revising the latest proposal for the Duscur reparations…”

Dimitri sighed and put his hand to his forehead, no doubt trying to ward off a headache. Claude winced.

“It’s going that good, huh?”

“There are… Complications,” Dimitri admitted. “But nothing I won’t be able to overcome. People can only stop this for so long.”

Claude didn’t doubt it— and not just because of the way Dimitri’s eyes and voice went dark at the end. When Dimitri put his mind to something, there was nothing that would stand in his way— whether it was in politics or combat, he wouldn’t give up until he had achieved his goal, even against odds that seemed insurmountable.

He wasn’t usually the sort to brag, but they were pretty alike in that respect, Claude liked to think— and it was a good thing, too. Because the old nobility of the former Faerghus? They _definitely_ counted as insurmountable odds.

“Want to talk about it?” Claude asked.

In all honesty, he would prefer a chance to sit, relax, and not think about politics for just a few minutes— since he had arrived, he and Dimitri hadn’t really had a chance to talk beyond the usual formalities of a Prince visiting a King. But if Dimitri wanted to bend his ear about the matter, he would happily listen and offer any advice he could; he had a lifetime of experience trying to navigate his way around people in power who wanted to do everything in their power to get in his way, after all.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t a _little_ relieved when Dimitri just sighed and shook his head, though.

“Honestly, I just want to sit and not think about any of it for a while. Is that selfish of me?”

“Dimitri, you’ve been working for months on this— and that’s not even considering the _years_ you spent planning it out and waiting for the chance to actually be able to do something. I mean, this was already on your agenda when we were still in school together. Anyone who calls you selfish is either a liar or a dunce.”

No, Dimitri was the farthest thing from selfish he could imagine— even when he was on a violent blood-soaked quest for revenge, he had still done everything in the name of others and cared little about what happened to _him_.

Claude wasn’t about to bring that up, of course.

“Besides, resting is just as important as working. You’re not going to be able to do your best work if you’re exhausted and stressed.”

He put his hand between Dimitri’s shoulder blades and guided him towards the bed. He could feel the tension in his muscles even through his cloak and heavy royal clothes, and when Dimitri sat down on the edge of the bed he seemed to sink into it like all of the strength had gone out of his body.

Claude didn’t _need_ to be in Fhirdiad as a representative of Almyra— especially not as the _Prince_ of Almyra, no matter what he told his father. But he did feel like he needed to be there as support for Dimitri. He had a lot of that these days, but Claude was special— or at least he liked to think he was.

None of the others were regularly sharing a bed with Dimitri, after all. Or, at least, he _hoped_ they weren’t.

Wordlessly, Claude unhooked the cape Dimitri was wearing, pulling it off his shoulders; Dimitri followed up of his own accord, kicking off his boots and shucking off the formal coat he was wearing. He was still far too dressed for Claude’s liking— considering he was just wearing his sleep clothes and a fur-lined robe Dimitri had given him to ward off the chill— but he knew that despite both of their wishes, Dimitri wouldn’t be able to stay long, so he would take what he could get.

Claude crawled away so he could lie down on the bed, propping his head up on one elbow as Dimitri carefully followed, lying flat on his back with his hands folded on top of his stomach.

“I missed you.”

Claude was just about to say something witty about Dimitri looking tense even when he was trying to relax, but it all flew out of his head when Dimitri looked over at him with that big, blue eye and said— _that_ , so _earnestly_.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Dimitri was a giant lion of a man who could rip someone’s head from their shoulders with his bare hands, but on the inside, he was just a sweet kitten.

“It hasn’t been that long since you last saw me,” Claude said, smiling even more, hoping Dimitri wouldn’t notice the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks.

“Then you must have missed me as well, for you to come back so soon.”

Dimitri smiled in return, and it was— dare he say it— an _enchanting_ sight. Combined with such a cheeky response, too!

Damn it all. A foreign royal had found and exploited his weakness. Whatever was he to do?

Well, the only thing he _could_ do in a situation like that— lean in and kiss him.

Dimitri sighed into the kiss, reaching up to gently tangle his fingers in Claude’s hair; not quite pulling, just enough for him to feel the slight tug at the roots.

Not too long ago Dimitri would have been too nervous about his own strength and about hurting him to do something like that, so he was glad for that development. He sort of wished Dimitri _was_ pulling— but that would come soon enough, he supposed. He would be _more_ than happy to help Dima out with the stress relief he so _clearly_ needed.

To that end, Claude deepened the kiss, one hand cupping Dimitri’s jaw as he licked into his mouth. Dimitri moaned softly and obediently let his mouth fall open, their kisses quickly going from sweet and chaste to passionate.

Dimitri had been right, after all; Claude _had_ missed him.

They had to break apart eventually, though, because no amount of passion or longing could negate the need to _breathe_. Claude used it as an opportunity to admire how red Dimitri’s face had gotten. His blushing always started at his ears, but his pale complexion meant that his entire face turned a brilliant shade before long— which, combined with the way Dimitri was panting from the intensity of their kiss and the way his eye was half-lidded with both relaxation and lust, was enough to have Claude licking his lips in anticipation of the meal he was about to enjoy as he reached for the hem of Dimitri’s shirt—

And then a knock at the door startled him so badly it sent him scrambling away from Dimitri, and in his haste, that scrambling sent him falling right off the edge of the bed.

“Claude!” Dimitri gasped and crawled across the bed to peer over the side at him. “Are you alright?”

Claude put a finger to his lips as he clambered to his feet, ignoring his bruised tailbone and equally bruised pride as he called, “Who is it?”

“It is me, Claude. I apologize for disturbing you.”

Claude let out a sigh of relief on hearing Dedue’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Come in, Dedue,” Dimitri said as he sat up on the bed, making himself look somewhat presentable even though Dedue would probably be the _last_ person to care about something like that.

Claude rounded the bed to unlock the door so Dedue could come in, giving him a smile and a nod when he stepped inside and patiently waited for Claude to close it behind him before anything else.

“Your M— Dimitri.” Dedue bowed his head, though whether it was force of habit or because he was apologizing for almost calling Dimitri by his title, Claude wasn’t sure. “I did not wish to disturb you, but a messenger has arrived from the Monastery that demands your immediate attention.”

For Dedue to have come looking for Dimitri at Claude’s room rather than dealing with it himself, it _had_ to be something important, so when Dimitri turned to Claude to offer an apology Claude just put his hands up and said, “Don’t keep Teach waiting on my account.”

“Thank you, Claude.”

It was almost enough to soothe the sting of Dimitri having to leave, just seeing that little smile of his.

Dedue looked to him and gave him a head-bowing nod that was probably a repeated apology as well, and Claude just nodded back as they both filed out of his room to go and deal with whatever Byleth-related emergency had arisen.

Once they were gone, Claude shook his head, sighed a resigned sigh, and went back to writing his letters.

The following few days proved too hectic for Dimitri and Claude to have much time to spend together in private; the important, urgent message that Professor— no, _Archbishop_ Byleth had sent was something to do with Duscur that she had unearthed while digging into Church records that were now availed to her as the new Archbishop, which meant they were of the utmost importance and had to be hand delivered to Dimitri to ensure no foul play.

It wasn’t like they didn’t see each other at all; since he was in Fhirdiad already, Claude tried to make himself as useful as possible, which meant helping Dimitri pour over the documents and trying alongside Dedue and Felix to keep him from getting so absorbed in the task that he refused to eat or sleep.

“This may be what helps me to prove what I’ve been saying since the day of the Tragedy. No matter what, I _must_ unravel the secrets these documents have to offer.”

“And you will, Dimitri— but they’re still going to be here if you take time to eat and sleep. Besides, the real challenge isn’t going to be finding the evidence— it’s going to be convincing the nobility to hear you out in the first place, and that’s something you need to be well rested and alert for.”

And so things continued for several days, on top of which the usual array of meetings and kingly business still marched on. Claude lent as much of his help to that as he could as well, at least without seeming like he was stepping on any toes. He didn’t want it to seem like he, a member of a foreign and, until recently, _hostile_ territory’s royalty, was trying to take over for Dimitri in any way— but he was willing to put up with a few odd looks if it meant Dimitri would take a twenty minute nap every once in a while.

It wasn’t until the night before Dimitri was supposed to present the new evidence to his council as an effort to get them to agree to his reparations plans faster that Claude was able to find a few minutes to slip up to Dimitri’s chambers. He gave a few simple nods to the guards as he passed and all of them simply nodded and let him pass without question.

The security situation made his skin crawl, and part of him wanted to drop what he was doing and have a serious talk with the captain of the guard, but he reminded himself that it was to his advantage and that Dimitri could handle himself. And besides, it wasn’t like Claude’s visits to Fhirdiad at seemingly random times were a new thing; he had been visiting more frequently than he really needed to since the war had officially ended in Dimitri’s victory. They probably had standing orders from Dimitri himself to let him through.

Still, he was feeling a bit uneasy by the time he actually got to Dimitri’s door, and took a second to collect himself before knocking.

“Come in.”

“Not even going to ask who’s there first, huh?”

Claude slipped into Dimitri’s room, closing and locking the door behind him. Dimitri was sitting at his desk, still pouring over a veritable forest’s worth of papers. There were several broken writing implements in the wastebin by his desk, so Claude had a pretty good idea how the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting were going.

He wrapped his arms around Dimitri from behind, bending over so he could rest his chin on his shoulder and get a closer look at what he was working on. Several discarded pages had big ink splatters, presumably from where Dimitri had broken his pen in frustration, and the handwriting on his current page was nearly illegible. Dimitri was leaning into his palm with his fingers clamped into his own hair, and barely reacted to Claude’s presence except with a small noise in the back of his throat when Claude leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I just don’t know, Claude.” Dimitri sighed. “I’ve been staring at this for so long that it hardly even seems to make sense to _me_ anymore. How am I meant to convince anyone else?”

“The fact that you’ve been staring at it so long is the problem.” Claude reached out to straighten the papers on top of his desk. “Besides, you don’t really _need_ to convince them of the truth— you just need to make them see that it’s not worth fighting over it with you. They probably don’t care how much evidence there is to the contrary anyway— they’re going to continue to believe what they want to believe because that’s what’s easiest for them. But the more evidence you have and the more people supporting you, the more they’ll realize it’s in their best interest to give in.”

Claude very much doubted that the assassination of Dimitri’s father was enough to drive people to commit _genocide_ if there wasn’t already plenty of hate there to provide the fuel for the fire. Whether the Duscan people were responsible for Lambert’s death or not probably didn’t make much difference in the long run. He was quite willing to bet that if that match hadn’t set off the pile of kindling that was Fodlan’s old school nobility, something else would have.

Part of him almost wanted Dimitri to skip this whole charade of pleasantry and assert himself more, but he understood why he wouldn’t after what had happened during the war. Still, he certainly wouldn’t be shedding any tears when Dimitri’s council was finally made up of people with half a brain and a lot less vitriol in their system. It seemed to be working wonders for the Alliance so far.

“Come on, Dimitri.” Claude migrated one hand down Dimitri’s arm, giving him a tug to encourage him to get out of his chair. “Get some rest; it’ll help to look at it with a fresh pair of eyes, and you don’t want to be exhausted when you’re laying everything out tomorrow.”

“I suppose you’re right…” When Dimitri stood up, Claude winced as he could _hear_ his joints popping and cracking from how long he’d been sitting in one spot— a sound and feeling he was intimately familiar with from many a night in a very similar position. “The voice of reason as ever, Claude. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“It’s really not anything extraordinary,” Claude said, even though hearing that from Dimitri made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside and had his organs hopping around— not an entirely pleasant feeling, but he was used to it around Dimitri. “I’m sure any of your proud supporters would have told you the same thing. They’re just not the ones sneaking into your room late at night. Or at least I hope they’re not.”

“Hm. True enough, I suppose.”

Claude had meant it as a joke, but from Dimitri’s sudden shift in tone he wondered if maybe he had taken it otherwise— there were many things Claude worried about despite his generally relaxed demeanor (the easiest way to feel confident was to _act_ confident, after all), but Dimitri cheating on him wasn’t one of them.

He wasn’t sure whether to be less worried or _more_ when instead of letting himself be lead to the bed, Dimitri pulled him in for a hug that was practically suffocating.

“I’m sorry that we’ve hardly had a moment to ourselves this entire time. You’ve come all this way and all I can do is absorb myself in my work and drag you into it as well.”

“You make it sound like you had to force me into it.” Claude laughed, but it was partly out of relief, and he sank into Dimitri’s embrace readily. “I know how much this means to you, Dimitri— and you should know by now that tearing down old racist trash is a personal pastime of mine. It’s no trouble.”

“I know, but… I still regret that you’ve been here nearly a week and we’ve hardly seen each other.”

Claude could have pointed out that they had seen _plenty_ of each other while working on deciphering everything and laying out his plan for the council, but he knew what Dimitri _really_ meant— they might have _seen_ each other, but they didn’t get the chance to really _be_ together.

Not the way either of them wanted to, at least.

“It’s fine, Dimitri. Don’t go beating yourself up over something like that. You’re going to give that pretty face of yours a lot of premature wrinkles if you start worrying over every little thing.”

“If that’s the price I have to pay, then so be it.” Dimitri chuckled, then tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to the top of Claude’s. “I just… Wish things didn’t have to be this way. That we didn’t have to sneak about behind closed doors.”

Claude held back a wince; it took a lot of willpower.

“We’ll get there.” He rubbed Dimitri’s back between his shoulder blades. “One big shock for the old fuddy duddies running things alongside you at a time, alright? We just have to wait for things to settle down a bit more.”

His words rang hollow, even to him— Fodlan wasn’t know for _settling down_ at the best of times, and even so long after the war things were still tumultuous. The number of bandits and thugs roaming were too high for his liking, mostly made up of people who had been driven to crime after the war broke out and tore Fodlan apart at its seams— on top of that, keeping the territories outside of Faerghus complacent with their new roles was a struggle all its own. Claude had received many an annoyed missive from Lorenz about the whole situation, which he almost _never_ replied to by telling him ‘this is what you wanted, isn’t it’, which he thought was very mature of him.

Add to that Dimitri’s own crusade against injustice— an important and worthwhile cause, and one that was very personal to him, which would only be hindered by their relationship going public— and Claude just didn’t see it in the cards any time soon.

He was a patient man, though. He could lie in wait for just the right moment, spend the time figuring out exactly how to spin it so that it would have the least catastrophic outcome— make it as easy as possible. With enough luck and some real wordsmithery he might even be able to spin it in a positive direction, if he found the right moment to strike— a union between their countries to cap off Dimitri’s already impressive list of achievements at such a young age. Once things were stable, even the most old-fashioned of Dimitri’s council would only have the most bare bones of arguments to stand up against that.

But Dimitri— he had been patient, more than patient, about a lot of things, but especially about this. When they had met that day at the Goddess Tower after Edelgard’s defeat and Dimitri had told him that even though so much time had passed and they had both changed so much, he still had feelings for him, even though he didn’t expect Claude to feel the same… Well, he had been ready then and there to shout to the world that they were in love, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

It was Claude who told him to wait— that he was going to run into enough bumps in the road, trying to get the now unified Fodlan under control after a war that had ripped it apart, without announcing to the entirety of the Old Guard of the nobility that he would be officially putting an end to the Blaiddyd line.

_“We’ll still be together,”_ he’d said. _“We’ll just need to be a little…_ Sneakier _about it, that’s all. At least until things calm down.”_

He could tell it was weighing heavily on him, but what else was there to do? They had to wait for the right moment.

But for right now, though— Claude buried his face in Dimitri’s chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly, and tried not to think about it.

They would get there. They would.

They just needed to get through a few more things first.

The more he told himself that, the more true it would be. Or so he hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

“If you ask me, you’re both being ridiculous.”

Claude almost responded to that with _I didn’t ask you_ , but aside from the fact that that made him sound _far_ too much like Felix, it was also blatantly untrue— not only had he _very much asked_ Hilda for her opinion on the matter, he had invited her all the way from Goneril territory just to give it.

The fact that she had brought some truly delightful wine from her brother’s private stores was just the cherry on top.

“Oh, really? Because if you have a better idea then I would _love_ to hear it.”

Hilda smacked her lips and tilted her head, swirling her third cup of wine around in her glass.

_(“This sounded like a wine situation,”_ Hilda had said as she pulled two bottles of the finest Goneril vintage she could convince her brother to part with— which was fine indeed since it was Hilda asking and Holst could never say no to her— and Claude, despite his usual aversion to drinking heavily, was inclined to agree.)

“The way _I_ see it,” Hilda said, leaning back and putting her hand to her chest in her usual ‘now this is just my opinion’ sort of way. “The two of you are the two most powerful men on the continent, and people _might_ have some objections, but what can they really do?”

“I wish it was as simple as you make it sound.”

“I mean, I _am_ oversimplifying things a touch, but really. What’s stopping the two of you from just, I don’t know, eloping?”

“The fact that every noble in Fodlan would be ready to riot in the streets?”

“ _Please_. As if you’ve ever cared what _nobles_ have to say about anything. And once it’s done, it’s not like they can _do_ anything, either.”

“They can make Dimitri’s life even more difficult than it’s already been.”

“Maybe, maybe not! And do you think they’d risk starting another war, especially if you play the political union angle?”

“Who’s to say? Besides, even if the people _here_ went along with it completely, there’s no telling how the people of Almyra would react to it.”

Claude let out a deep sigh and leaned back, taking a deep drink from his own glass of wine.

Fodlan and Almyra… Both had their _problems_. He had a feeling Dimitri being a man wouldn’t be as much of a problem for his people as him being one would be for Dimitri’s, but considering what his mother had to deal with, Dimitri being the king of a foreign land would probably be a much _bigger_ problem. He had plenty of cousins and half-siblings to carry on the royal line, after all...

Of course, breaking down those barriers was what he had set out to do in the first place when he had come to Fodlan. And it was still what he intended to do. The fact that he was visiting Fhirdiad not as Claude but as Prince Khalid, representative of the royal family of Almyra, was already a great first step. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d had to keep his identity a secret— for a variety of reasons, but one of those reasons was to keep himself safe. Being the prince of a foreign nation that had less than positive relations with Fodlan was just too dangerous.

Now, though— with the Empire defeated and Fodlan firmly in Dimitri’s (and Byleth’s) hands, no one was eager to start another war, and that meant everyone was a little more receptive to getting along. He didn’t want to go around _announcing_ that he thought it was the one good thing that had come out of the war, but…

“Do you think that’s the _real_ reason you keep putting it off?”

Hilda had her head tilted and her hands folded under her chin, looking perfectly innocent, like she hadn’t just made Claude choke on his wine.

“I— what?”

“I’m just saying, Dimitri was totally ready to take on the whole world. I’m not saying waiting was a _bad_ idea, I’m just wondering if you really know _why_ you’re doing it at this point.”

“You think I’m keeping our relationship a secret because of how _my_ people might react?”

She had backed him into a corner again; he couldn’t say she was _wrong_ , because she wasn’t. Claude had pretty clear memories of how his mother had been treated by the royal court every time they thought they could get away with it. If she hadn’t been the forceful personality she was, he wasn’t sure she would have made it, and that wasn’t something he wanted Dimitri to have to endure.

He just… Needed to figure out a plan. Once he had a plan everything would be _fine_. Relations between Almyra and Fodlan were better than they had ever been, they just weren’t _there_ yet. And Dimitri had his own things to worry about.

They would get there. They _would_.

“Look, all _I’m_ saying is that if _I_ were running an entire country, I wouldn’t let something like some old-fashioned stuck up nobles stand in my way, you know? But maybe that’s just me.”

Hilda looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes over the rim of her wine glass, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Claude barely resisted the urge to give her the middle finger. Because he was very much enjoying the wine, and also liked having all of his fingers intact.

The thing was— Claude didn’t think Hilda was being completely, one hundred percent serious. She was a lot smarter than most people would first assume, and he had absolutely no doubt that she _knew_ things were a lot more complicated than what she was proposing.

No, he didn’t think she was legitimately suggesting he and Dimitri just run off and get married without worrying about what their subjects would say or _do_ about it; he was _pretty sure_ she was just trying to get him to never stop thinking about the possibility even well after she’d packed up to head back home.

The next few days at least gave him other things to think about; he had given Dimitri plenty of space and time to work on his proposal to the council, and things had gone over about as well as expected— but not the absolute worst.

This time, when the council had ‘reconvened’ after ‘discussing’ Dimitri’s proposals ‘at length’, Claude had insisted on sitting in on the meeting as well. He hoped the presence of a foreign royal would make the old guard think twice about both their antiquated opinions on foreign policy, and also all of the racist bullshit going through their minds.

They all certainly _looked_ uncomfortable, which was a promising start.

“After, ah, taking a closer look at some of the documents…” Claude’s gaze settled on the _particularly_ nervous-looking Count Rowe as he stammered and cleared his throat repeatedly through even the one short sentence— no doubt looking to the seat he was sitting in that had once been occupied by Count Kleiman, who had been _relieved_ of his position post-haste in one of Dimitri’s rare acts of fully exercising his power. “We have some… _Concerns_ about the logistics of the whole a-affair. We, uh— w-we would like to see a more detailed account of your plans for reparations. You know, finances and such…”

“Of course.” Dimitri looked him directly in the eye, his face a perfectly neutral mask. “In fact, I have a plan fully laid out here— I can have copies sent to each of you this evening, if you so desire.”

He pushed the paper across the table. None of the nobles moved to take it, all glancing nervously at each other.

They knew that Dimitri was so prepared that they were backed into a corner, and taking the paper from him was as good as admitting defeat— but considering _they_ had asked for it they couldn’t exactly just leave it sitting there, either.

Eventually Count Rowe drew the short straw again and reached out to take it, nervously clearing his throat again.

“V-very good, Your Majesty. We will be sure to look this over and, uh… Deliberate on this.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow we will discuss the implementation.”

“On such short notice, Your Majesty?”

“I’m sure all of you are just as eager to be done with this and get back to your regular duties as I am. And this is all long overdue. I’m sure you’ll find everything well in order, so there should be no further concerns.”

Dimitri was smiling, but the look in his eye was sharp and serious, like he was daring the assembled nobles to say anything.

Claude couldn’t have been more proud of him.

With obvious reluctance, the assembled nobles nodded and murmured their assent, or something close enough to it.

It was obvious Dimitri hadn’t changed any hearts or minds, but he obviously hadn’t been expecting to. Just making the nobles see that he was willing to fight them to the very end and flex his authority was enough. And Claude knew Dimitri well enough to know that he would see being able to do it without _flaunting_ that authority would be a major victory in his eyes.

He also knew he _would_ have completely demolished the council if they had decided they weren’t going to give in, that was how important it was to him. Considering what he had seen and what he and Dedue had been through, Claude wasn’t surprised. He was just glad Dimitri had the moral victory on this one.

“Were there any other orders of business before we adjourn for the night?”

Claude tried to hide his own excitement when Dimitri stood up from his seat; there was still plenty of work to be done, certainly, but the hard part was behind them and just based on what he had seen so far Dimitri had come out on top. He was sure he would be able to convince him to take a proper break— and they would be able to spend some proper time together, at least for a little while.

“Actually, Your Majesty, I had some questions about the Founding Day Ball.”

Margrave Gautier clearly had other plans, though— and Claude had to suppress his irritation.

“Oh? Of course.”

Dimitri said back down and folded his hands together on the table, turning his attention fully to Margrave Gautier.

“Given that it’s the first time the event has been held since you took the throne, I think I speak for all of us when I say I hope you will think long and hard about using the event to not only extend the _reach_ of the royal family, but also the _size_.”

Margrave Gautier, from what Claude had heard, was a man who was as cunning as he was talented on the battlefield— but he wouldn’t know subtlety if it came up to bite him.

Sylvain’s assessment of his father had been spot on, apparently, and it made Claude glad that it would— _hopefully_ — not be long before he took over for him.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at the Margrave. The look he was giving him was distinctly unpleasant, but even though the other nobles almost seemed to shrink away from it, Gautier didn’t flinch in the slightest.

“There are far more pressing matters for me to be concerned with at the moment,” Dimitri said firmly.

“I think we all understand that, Your Majesty. But surely _you_ can understand why people might be feeling… _Uneasy_ with the state of the line of succession at the moment. If something were to happen to you, it would be the end of the Blaiddyd line— and more than that, since you’ve taken over the entirety of Fodlan, it would leave a massive power vacuum that would undoubtedly throw us into another war. Given the state of Fodlan now, it’s hard to imagine our people recovering from something like that.”

_I can see where Sylvain got his flair for the dramatic,_ Claude wanted to say, but instead just remained the silent, vigilant watcher that he had been through the whole of the proceedings thus far— he just hoped Gautier could _feel_ the daggers he was glaring in his direction behind the mask of his smile.

It was Claude’s least favourite tactic— using factual information to create a problem where there wasn’t one. Dimitri was the last of the Blaiddyd line, but he could easily adopt an heir, or even choose one that wasn’t related to him at all. Dimitri not having kids wasn’t going to be the end of peace in Fodlan as they knew it.

But given the way the nobility of Faerghus seemed to think, Claude wouldn’t be surprised if that tactic _worked_.

In fact, all of the nobles were looking expectantly towards Dimitri. Count Galatea at least had the courtesy to look a little ashamed when Claude turned his attention towards him, but the rest of them looked like dogs gathered around their master begging for a treat. Claude almost wished Felix was there instead of dealing with something in Fraldarius territory, just so _someone_ would make that observation out loud.

If Claude wasn’t so deeply annoyed by everything about them and what they had put Dimitri through after he had struggled so hard to get to where he was., he would have almost felt sorry for them. Everything had changed so quickly, and old men in positions of power had never been the sort to deal well with change, in his experience. They needed _something_ normal and familiar to cling to.

It was just unfortunate that they’d picked this particular hill to die on.

“I fail to see how this is related to the ball.”

“The founder’s day ball is a celebration of the history of our Kingdom, including the history of your lineage dating all the way back to Loog. It would be… Appropriately symbolic if you were to announce your engagement at the ball, thus making our people feel more secure about the future of the Kingdom and Fodlan as a whole.”

The assembled nobles murmured much more enthusiastic assent than they had about the reparations plans.

Dimitri frowned. Claude didn’t, even though he wanted to. He kept his neutral smile. There was no good reason for him to get upset over the idea of Dimitri being pressured into marriage, at least any more than any other friend would be upset over it.

In fact…

He could tell Dimitri was about to say something scathing, so he nudged him with his foot under the table. Dimitri looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Claude leaned into one hand, giving him a small nod and smile.

Dimitri turned back to the council, folded his hands together, and said, “I will take your suggestion into consideration, Lord Gautier. Now, were there any _other_ concerns before we adjourn for the evening?”

The lords all seemed happy to leave things at that for the evening. Margrave Gautier looked quietly smug as he bid them a good evening to retire to his quarters. It wasn’t until all of them had filed out that Dimitri slumped over in his chair, burying his face in his hands.

“Dima?” Claude put his hand on Dimitri’s back, rubbing in what he hoped were comforting circles. “You alright?”

“Ask me again after I’ve had a chance to think about what I just agreed to,” he murmured into his hands.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

He wished he could make that sound more convincing, but it was hard enough burying the vitriol he felt towards those nobles. Even if he and Dimitri hadn’t been together, that sort of talk would have annoyed him— but Dimitri being _his_ while they were trying to push him towards some woman just for the sake of carrying on the royal line only added fuel to the fire.

“You saw how much more agreeable they got just from you agreeing to think about it,” Claude pointed out, which was the real reason he had stopped Dimitri from putting his foot down about the whole thing. “If they’re too busy thinking about you carrying on the family line, you won’t have to worry about them getting in the way of your work with Duscur. And it’s not like you committed to anything.”

He had to keep telling himself that, too. That as much as it irked him hearing people talking about Dimitri getting married like he wasn’t even in the room, Dimitri had only agreed to even think about it because of the heavy-handed hint he’d given him.

If everything with Duscur went well, they would be one step closer to not having to hide things any longer. If Dimitri pretending to be the least bit interested in going along with the other nobles’ plans to get him to marry some random woman and start popping out heirs got them to that point, he could endure it.

“Thank you, Claude.”

He was disappointed in himself for getting so caught up in his thoughts that he almost jumped when Dimitri reached over to take his hand and clasp it between both of his own, bringing it up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“You really have been such a tremendous help during this process— I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’d find a way to manage, I’m sure.”

He joked, but it was only to disguise how caught off guard he was— not by Dimitri’s earnestness or his show of affection, even though both of those things still managed to surprise him from time to time, but because of how immediately guilty he felt even though he couldn’t quite figure out _why_.

Dimitri already had enough on his plate without having to worry about _that_ , though, so he just smiled back and scooted closer so he could lean in towards Dimitri.

“And now that all of that’s over… I think you and I should go find somewhere a little more private, don’t you?”

As always, the flush that started at the tips of Dimitri’s ears was _incredibly_ satisfying.

“...I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Claude.”

With a grin, Claude leaned in to give Dimitri a playfully chaste peck on the lips before springing out of his seat and striding casually towards the door. He would leave first, heading for his own room, and Dimitri would follow soon after and head to his, and he would sneak out to see him just like he had a few nights ago.

It was hardly ideal, but if that was how things had to be… It would be worth it.

He promised himself it would be worth it.

“Well, don’t _you_ look handsome.”

Claude tilted his head and admired Dimitri from the doorway— particularly the way he blushed starting from his ears.

There were plenty of other things Claude wanted to say about how Dimitri looked, but since there was an attendant making the final few adjustments to his outfit, he held his tongue.

“Thank you. I can handle the rest from here…”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The attendant bowed to Dimitri, then bowed again to Claude on his way out. Claude waited not only for him to be out of the room and for the door to close behind him, but until he could no longer hear his footsteps to ensure he was well out of hearing range.

Claude made sure to lock the door as soon as he was gone.

Dimitri was standing at the mirror, fussing with his collar. Claude came up behind him, making sure not to approach from Dimitri’s blind side, and reached for it.

“May I?”

Dimitri blushed even harder and nodded as Claude reached up to fix his collar for him, smoothing everything down and trailing his hand down Dimitri’s chest. He left it on top of Dimitri’s left pec as he stepped back to admire his work— and Dimitri’s natural handsomeness, of course.

“Something tells me you’re going to be breaking a lot of hearts tonight.”

“Not by choice, I assure you.”

Dimitri turned back to the mirror and frowned. Claude gave him a firm pat on the back.

“I know this is tough for you,” he said. “But look at how smoothly everything is going with Duscur.”

The other nobles were so distracted by the Founder’s Day Ball that Dimitri had been able to do most of his work without any further prying or questioning.

Dimitri sighed and shook his head. “I suppose you’re right. I’m just not comfortable with this level of scrutiny over my personal life. Especially considering…”

Claude nodded, understanding completely.

“Are _you_ really okay with this?” Dimitri asked. “I imagine I’ll be spending most of the night being introduced to ladies of good standing…”

The Margrave had implied that he wanted Dimitri to already _have_ a woman in mind by the time the ball rolled around, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen; the compromise Dimitri had made was that he would seriously consider any _suggestions_ they might have for his marriage, which the nobility had taken as a perfect opportunity to start pushing all of their daughters and nieces towards him.

All Claude could think was that he was glad his father had no interest in getting him married off; he still wasn’t sure how he would feel about _Dimitri_ in particular, but that was a bridge to cross later.

“I’m used to people sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” Claude said with a shrug.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Claude tilted his head questioningly, but his pleasant expression soured when he saw that Dimitri had a frown of his own and a furrowed brow.

“I’m having trouble understanding how you’re so… _Okay_ with this.” Dimitri shook his head. “If I had to watch you be paraded around and listen to people talking about you like you marrying some noblewoman was a _certainty_ , I think I would go mad.”

“Well, I’m certainly not _thrilled_ ,” Claude said with his own frown and shake of the head. “But you know me, Dimitri. I’m good at waiting for just the right moment. I mean, I hid my identity for _years_ — something like this? It’s worth the patience.”

It wasn’t the entire truth, but… It was probably better for Dimitri not to know that if he could have his way, he would happily flaunt to the entire world that he was _his_.

Claude had no intentions of letting his jealousy get in the way of the two of them accomplishing their goals.

“Besides, I know you well enough to know you’re going to do the absolute bare minimum to keep those old fools happy. I don’t have to worry about seeing you being paraded around on some woman’s arm.”

He took a step closer and gave him one final look over, straightening his collar out again even though it was already perfectly straight just to give him an excuse to fuss with him.

“Well? Shall we get you out there?”

“I suppose the sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Claude and Dimitri smiled at each other, and Claude hoped that Dimitri couldn’t tell that his was fake.


	3. Chapter 3

For obvious reasons, Claude generally didn’t _revel_ in seeing Dimitri uncomfortable— but just this once, he felt it was okay to take a _little_ comfort from it.

Claude sat at the back of the room at the table for the ‘guests of honour’, and from the way that had been said, he supposed he was supposed to _feel_ honoured that he was included in that. The nobles of former Faerghus had made it as clear to him as possible that he had outstayed his welcome without threatening the relationship between their nations, and as much as he was annoyed by… Well, everything about them, in this at least he couldn’t fault them. There really was no reason, in their eyes, for him to be there.

His parents were probably also beside themselves and he anticipated a very _stern_ lecture when he got back, so he tried to occupy himself with thinking of excuses or anything that would soften the blow.

He could always tell them the truth— he just wasn’t sure he was ready to commit to that plan just yet. So he filed it in his mind as ‘plan B’.

The other thing occupying his attention was Dimitri being twirled around the room by some random woman he sort of recognized as the daughter of a minor noble of former Eastern Faerghus, looking downright _miserable_.

Claude was caught between two feelings— wanting to swoop in and save him, and being somewhat amused and maybe even a little relieved. But since he couldn’t do the former, he tried to focus on the latter.

He had played it off when Dimitri had asked why he was so okay with all of this, when the truth was that he wasn’t— he was just that good at pretending. So it was some small measure of comfort to see that Dimitri wasn’t enjoying himself any more than he was.

The dance ended, and before the woman could try to convince Dimitri to take her for a second turn, Sylvain cut in and asked her to dance. Flustered at being asked by _another_ high ranking noble to dance, even though he wasn’t the king, she allowed herself to be pulled away as Sylvain threw a conspiratorial wink in his direction.

Claude lifted his cup to him in thanks and took a drink. The wine was sweeter than the Goneril vintage Hilda had brought— and blessedly left the rest of— but didn’t pack quite the same _punch_.

It was probably for the best that he wasn’t drunk right now, but it was an option he would have liked to have all the same.

Annette blessedly cut in to ask for a dance before another ‘prospective wife’ could be urged by their father to take her turn, and the relief on Dimitri’s face was visible. While he was glad Dimitri wasn’t suffering, he also wondered if he wasn’t being a _bit_ too obvious that this whole thing was a sham, something shiny to distract the nobles with while he went about his business with Duscur.

With Dimitri happily preoccupied, though, Claude didn’t mind turning his attention to the person who sat down next to him.

“Hey, Teach. Or should I be calling you Your Grace now?”

“Please don’t,” Byleth sighed as she sat next to him, her straight back and carefully folded hands a far cry from the way he remembered her always slumping over her desk or sitting with her elbows on the table when she ate. Seteth’s lessons in how a proper Archbishop was _meant_ to behave in public had clearly started to have some effect. “It’s _still_ strange to hear it from people around the Monastery. Hearing it from my students would be the last straw.”

“I mean, if you want to get _technical_ , I was never actually _your_ student.”

Claude gave her a cheeky grin and held his hands up defensively when she glared in his direction.

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean. The first time Lorenz called me ‘Your Highness’ I just about fell off my wyvern.” Claude laughed at his own memory. “Speaking of your _religious duties_ , shouldn’t you be out there mingling like Dimitri?”

“Most people seem to think I’m _aloof_ and _mysterious_. Who am I to ruin the illusion?”

“Aloof? Eh. But mysterious? You _definitely_ are.”

Claude and Byleth shared a smile. Not for the first time, he wondered if things might have turned out differently if she had been _his_ teacher instead of Dimitri’s. If the war might have taken a different turn, if he might have had a few more of his questions answered…

Then again, he was also sure that without her intervention Dimitri would have ended up dead, so… Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t think too hard about it.

“What about you? I’m surprised you’re not out there being Dimitri’s knight in shining armour.”

Claude looked around to make sure no one else was listening too closely, but he should have known better than to think Byleth would open her mouth if she thought there was anyone listening in on them.

“Dimitri is taking one for the team tonight,” he said with a shrug. “The nobility are placated enough by his little ‘wife search’ here to not pay too much attention to what he’s doing in Duscur. It means he can get things done a lot faster and a lot more efficiently.”

“I still don’t understand why Dimitri even bothered listening to what they had to say.”

Byleth’s expression darkened as she looked out across the sea of noble faces, some of which were familiar and friendly, but most of which were old men who had done nothing but get in Dimitri’s way from day one.

She might not have had the personal connection to the whole thing that Dimitri did, but he remembered hearing about how she punched the lights out of a monk who dared to accuse Dedue of being involved in Flayn’s disappearance. Apparently everyone who met Dedue immediately became invested enough in the cause of the Duscan people to commit violence— and Claude thought that was extremely valid.

“Politics are complicated and messy, even for a king,” Claude said with a sigh. “I think if push had come to shove, he would have. But he wants Faerghus, and Fodlan as a whole, to be able to function _without_ him looking over everyone’s shoulders all the time.”

And considering how its nobility was still behaving even now, Claude figured that was still quite far into the future.

Byleth nodded in understanding. Even though she wasn’t royalty and they both were, Claude had a feeling she understood Dimitri’s feelings better than he did— politics came naturally to him, even when they frustrated him, but Dimitri struggled with finding the balance in using his power wisely without _abusing_ his power. For someone like Byleth, who had been suddenly thrust into a position of power without warning, she would probably have the same problems.

It made him a little sad, really— but then, they were all only human. Or at least he was _pretty_ sure Byleth was human. It was hard to tell, some days.

“But you _want_ to be out there with him.”

It wasn’t a question. It didn’t really need to be, he supposed. Byleth already knew his answer, after all.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“I don’t know. _Do_ I want to know what you think?”

“I think that after everything the two of you have been through, especially Dimitri, the two of you deserve to be a little selfish for once.”

Claude blinked at her.

He tried to say something, but no words came out.

By the time he had collected himself enough to say something, Byleth had already gotten up and gone to talk to Dedue, glaring at the many people giving him what they obviously thought were subtle dirty looks whenever Dimitri wasn’t watching. (People who’s names Claude was making sure to memorize, of course. Even if he was _distracted_ now.)

Another song had started up while he and Byleth were talking, and Annette couldn’t justify dancing with him forever, so another woman— this one obviously pressured into it by her father and looking quite terrified at the idea of dancing with the king— had taken her place. Dimitri was dancing perfectly (or, at least, he was performing all of the right steps), but there was a wooden and stiff quality to his dancing that made it obvious he was not having a good time.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Claude got to his feet and shuffled out from behind the table, heading for the dance floor for the first time all night. Some of the gathered nobles looked at him oddly and one or two even dared to give him a different but similar kind of dirty look, but he wasn’t focusing on _any_ of that.

In fact, he wasn’t really thinking at all— if he had been thinking he would have realized he was about to do something incredibly stupid that went against everything he’d been saying since the end of the war, and he would have turned himself back around and sat himself back down in his seat and watched Dimitri dancing for the rest of the night until he could take him up to his room and soothe all of that stress and discomfort.

Something about having Hilda and Byleth both telling him to just _do it_ had apparently awoken something primal in him, however— and he found himself standing in front of Dimitri on the dance floor just as the song ended.

“Hey, mind if I cut in?”

The young woman looked absolutely terrified, but relaxed as soon as Claude reached for _Dimitri’s_ hand instead of hers.

She also looked incredibly confused— as did Dimitri— but she gladly took the chance to escape that was presented to her, scurrying away before anything else happened.

“May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”

He bowed, nice and proper like a good little Fodlan noble, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that they had started to attract some attention— no surprise since Dimitri was the center of _everyone’s_ attention that night, ever since the event had changed from ‘a celebration of the founding of our country’ to ‘let’s try to get our female relatives married to the king’.

“...if it pleases you, Your Highness.”

The next song began, the band not hesitating for a moment even when murmurs started to circulate around the room.

Claude didn’t consider himself a particularly _skilled_ dancer, but the steps came easily enough, and he let Dimitri lead. Soon they were on the dance floor twirling among all of the other couples.

“Claude, what are you doing?”

With the music playing and Dimitri leaning in as close as he was, Claude was sure no one else could hear them, but it still made him glance around to make sure no one was listening in— and it was really starting to sink in just how many people were looking at them.

“You looked like you were having a bad night,” Claude said with a tilt of his head that he hoped would emulate a shrug, since if he actually shrugged he would screw up their whole dance. “I thought I would try to cheer you up a little.”

Dimitri smiled at him, the tips of his ears starting to turn pink.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “But you’re not concerned that this might be… Dangerous?”

_So what if it is,_ Claude thought, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. The parts of his brain that desperately wanted to agree with Hilda and Byleth were still at war with the parts of his brain that thought they would be better off being patient, waiting for the right moment.

But maybe that was just his own fear talking. Claude liked to make plans. Even when it seemed like he was thinking on the fly it was usually because he had thought out so many potential scenarios beforehand that he had an answer to every possible situation. When he _didn’t_ have a plan for something… That was when he started to worry.

And he didn’t have a plan for what could happen after he and Dimitri revealed their relationship to the world. He kept saying it would happen eventually, once things had settled down, once they accomplished what they had set out to do— but the real truth was that he just didn’t know what was going to happen, and that terrified him.

But it also was _far_ from the biggest risk he had ever taken, and he had a _very_ good reason to take it.

“I think we can afford a _little_ danger every now and then,” was what he said instead. “You know, just to keep things interesting. And besides…”

He guided Dimitri to lean forward so he could lean in close to the shell of his ear to speak, close enough that Dimitri could feel his breath on him if the little shiver he let out was to be believed. Anyone looking in on them would probably assume they were conspiring about something, which was its own kind of danger, but alongside the lowkey anxiety that gave him Claude also felt… _Giddy_ , almost. Like when he was a kid and he would sneak out to play with his wyvern at night, that cross between being afraid of getting caught and the excitement of doing something you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing.

“...Seeing you out here with all of those beautiful women made me realize I had to show everyone who you _really_ belong to.”

Dimitri’s grip on his hand instantly tightened to the point of being painful.

Claude winced, but alongside the pain bloomed pride, because he knew exactly what that reaction meant— that his words had the exact desired effect.

“I’m going to slip out for a bit of fresh air,” he continued murmuring directly into his ear. “Wait a few minutes and then come and join me, hm?”

When the song came to an end, Claude separated himself from Dimitri and gave him another formal bow, then slipped out as quickly as he could without drawing any more attention to himself than he already had.

He made his way quickly through the halls until he found an out of the way balcony. Fhirdiad was as cold as ever, but the rush of cold that struck him in the face as he pushed through the heavy wooden door keeping the wind out was refreshing rather than troublesome. It felt like splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up from a half-asleep state.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was _dressed_ for the weather— he was dressed for a _party_ after all— so as the minutes passed he started to get colder, rubbing his arms as he watched his misty breath float up into the night.

He was just starting to debate heading back inside and finding some other place to meet up with Dimitri when the wooden doors creaked behind him, and he felt something heavy and warm settle on his shoulders.

“You’ll catch your death out here, my love.”

Claude felt his stomach flutter at Dimitri calling him that. It didn’t matter how long they were together; he was pretty sure he was always going to feel like a school boy with his first real crush, teasing the cute prince so he wouldn’t have to deal with the way his heart did little flips whenever Dimitri said something adorably earnest.

The warmth on his shoulders was Dimitri’s heavy fur cape. It seemed like he had one to match every outfit. Given that his father was wearing one in every portrait of him in the castle, it seemed like some kind of important royal tradition.

Claude had a feeling that if anyone saw him wearing Dimitri’s cape like this, it would probably cause a stir. The thought combined with the continuing adrenaline just made him wrap it around himself more tightly, burrowing into the warmth.

“I thought it would give us some nice privacy,” he said. “No one else wants to come out here, after all.”

“There’s a good reason for that.”

Dimitri let out a little shiver as a gust of cold wind blew by, which was a testament to just _how_ cold it was— although the fact that they were in formal wear not meant to stand up to the temperature certainly didn’t help. Claude lifted his arm and scooted in close to Dimitri so they could both wrap themselves up in his cape as best they could.

“You’re being… Awfully affectionate tonight, Claude.” Dimitri cleared his throat, though he certainly wasn’t complaining as he wrapped his arms around Claude to keep them as close as possible. “Is something wrong?”

He knew what Dimitri _really_ meant when he said that, but a sharp stab went right through his heart on hearing that regardless.

“I think I was just feeling a little jealous,” he said, turning his head to rest it against Dimitri’s chest. “Maybe I was a little bit hasty when I said I would be okay with this.”

“Claude…”

Dimitri tilted his head down so his lips were pressed against the top of Claude’s head, and he murmured into his hair, “You know… I feel terrible for saying this, but knowing that makes me quite happy.”

Claude laughed.

“Is something funny?”

“Oh, nothing much… Just the fact that I was thinking the same thing earlier when I saw how miserable you were dancing with those women. I think it might have been too much for me if you were better at pretending you were having a good time.”

Now Dimitri was the one who was laughing, which made Claude laugh more, until the two of them were practically shaking wrapped up in each other’s arms— half from the laughter and half from the cold. The flushing on their cheeks was also a healthy mix of both, he assumed.

“Claude, I… Think we’ve been overthinking all of this.”

Dimitri’s hand came up to settle on the back of his head, and Claude allowed himself to just… _Bask_ in the way he was wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms for a minute, letting out a deep shuddering sigh.

“I think that’s on me,” Claude said, hoping Dimitri could understand him even though he was talking directly into his chest. “You’ve wanted to just be open about it from the start. I was the one who was worried it would create problems.”

“It likely _will_ create problems,” Dimitri said. “You were never wrong about that. I just think… You and I will both be stronger rulers if we’re open and honest with ourselves and with our people. Not to say— not that I think you’re not already a strong ruler—”

“Shh, relax, Dima. I get it.” Claude chuckled and reached up to pat his cheek. Dimitri grabbed his wrist before he could pull away and turned to kiss his palm, which instantly made Claude go warm in a way that body heat and a big fluffy cloak could never quite replicate. “So… Did Teach get to you too?”

“Is that what she was talking to you about? I was wondering.” Dimitri’s voice was somewhat muffled by the fact that he was still talking into the palm of Claude’s hand. “No, Dedue and Felix both staged a sort of… _Intervention_ last night.”

Claude could imagine how _that_ must have gone— Dedue’s stern, almost maternal encouragement being backed up by Felix’s caring disguised as insults— and he wasn’t sure whether to find it hilarious that those two had had to put aside their differences and work together or whether he was just grateful that they had gone to all the trouble.

Of course, Dimitri wasn’t really the problem to begin with— but the thought was nice.

“Of course, I told them we had our reasons for waiting…”

“And I’m guessing they weren’t swayed by the argument.”

Dimitri laughed, probably to avoid having to actually answer the question. Claude had a feeling that had something to do with some not so nice things Felix had to say about him, but he was willing to let that slide. If Felix wanted to call him stupid, well. He wasn’t going to argue with him this time.

“So.” Claude looked up at Dimitri, not moving out of the embrace both because he didn’t want to and because the fact that it was freezing cold hadn’t changed. “What’s our plan, then?”

“Well… I suppose the first step would be for me to give you this.”

Dimitri released his hold on him (much to Claude’s chagrin because it left him without Dimitri’s glorious body heat) so he could reach into the pocket of his coat.

Even though, from context, Claude had a pretty good idea of what he was going to pull out— his breath still caught in his throat when Dimitri held up a beautiful silver ring with a single large green gemstone in the center, with a few more small gems embedded in the braided design of the band.

“Dimitri— I—”

“I know this is perhaps not the most _traditional_ proposal, my beloved, but… If you would do me the honour of wearing this, you would make me the happiest man in all of Fodlan.”

Claude found himself unable to do much but stare at the ring, wide eyed and speechless.

They had talked about getting married before. Talked about it to death, practically. Even when they had stood together on the balcony of the Goddess Tower, looking out at the dawn of a new Fodlan and talking about how they would be able to support each other, it had been… A _topic_ , and that was before they had really been completely sure on where they stood with each other.

But Claude had been so focused on the idea of the _future_ and what was waiting for them there that actually seeing it play out in front of him was… _Stunning_. In both senses of the word.

“...Claude? Is everything alright?”

Dimitri’s hand— the one not holding the ring he was so transfixed on— coming up to cup his face gently was what made him realize he’d just been standing there staring in silence for a few moments longer than he should have.

“I’m sorry, I know this was abrupt— I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Dimitri.”

Before his mind could run away with him, Claude reached up to grasp Dimitri’s ring-holding hand in both of his own.

“...You know, I don’t have one to give to _you_.”

The way Dimitri’s face softened and lit up at the same time was the stuff of romance novels.

“That’s alright,” he said. “That just means you have an excuse to come back soon and bring me one.”

Claude laughed, tilting his head forward so he could rest it against Dimitri’s chest. “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that.”

He was shivering, and even though he knew some of that was from the adrenaline and nerves, he was pretty sure that this time _most_ of it was because of the cold.

“Come on,” he said, taking Dimitri by the wrist and pulling him back towards the door. “We’ve got a party to get back to.”

“Friends, honoured guests, I have an important announcement to make.”

The band stopped playing and the dancers stopped dancing as Dimitri stepped up onto the low platform he had been seated on the few times when he had not been preoccupied by twirling women around in the dance floor. All eyes were on him as soon as he spoke— except for a few leery looks being shot Claude’s way at the way he was standing just beside Dimitri.

Claude just smiled pleasantly back, taking a personal satisfaction in knowing just how much he was about to ruin most of their nights.

“I know the past year has been a difficult adjustment for us all. The war brought with it many changes, good and bad, and many people have been struggling not only to repair the damages it caused but also to find their way forward in this new unified Fodlan.”

Dimitri was looking out over the crowd, a gleam in his eye that almost looked like the start of tears— no matter how annoyed he might have been with the nobility, you would have to be completely ignorant to not realize how much he loved Faerghus and her people.

Claude, on the other hand, only had eyes for Dimitri. He’d spent so long staring ahead into the future— he felt like he deserved the chance to be selfish and just look at what was in front of him for once.

“I know I would not have been able to find my way without the stalwart support of my friends and allies.”

Claude watched Dimitri’s eyes scan the crowd. The other Blue Lions and Byleth were all watching him with a unique sort of love and reverence— even Felix couldn’t keep up his scowl. It was more than just someone looking at their king; it was love, the kind of love that could only be forged between people when you had all been through Hell together and come out the other side scorched and traumatized but whole.

Claude wouldn’t even try to _pretend_ he was the only one in the room who was _in_ love with Dimitri, either. But that was okay, he understood. He was a hard guy _not_ to love.

“Unifying a land that for so long defined itself by its differences has not been an easy path for any of us. Even more so as we reach out our hand in friendship to lands beyond our borders, and begin to break down the walls that have kept us sequestered from the world for so long.”

It had been Claude’s dream for so long. When he had first called on the Kingdom for help defending against the Empire’s siege and realized he would have to retreat and leave Fodlan in Dimitri’s hands before his death ended up causing _another_ war, it had left a bitter taste in his mouth, even though he trusted Dimitri to see things through to the end in his stead.

Hearing him say that now, and watching the way Dimitri turned to him with all the love in his heart plain on his face, though? It made it all worth it.

“I know many of you have also felt… _Uncertain_ about the future of Faerghus, and the royal family.”

The room had been quiet before, everyone paying rapt attention to Dimitri, but in that moment you could have heard a pin drop as everyone held their collective breath. This was the moment they had all been waiting for, after all— the nobles all waiting for Dimitri to announce which _lucky lady_ would get the honour of being his new queen.

Claude felt like he was about to start vibrating out of his skin, and also maybe throw up, but his smile didn’t falter even once.

“I want all of you to know that I take your concerns very seriously,” Dimitri said, his voice going stern. “So long as it is within my power, I will never allow this new united Fodlan we’ve built to crumble, and certainly not over something so simple as the matter of succession. But this _is_ a new Fodlan; we must not allow ourselves to be held back by the conventions we have always felt beholden to.”

A ripple of confusion went through the room, though no one dared to break the silence; you could just _feel_ the tension hanging in the air, thick enough to be cut with a knife.

“That is why I am happy to announce a union that will break down the walls between two nations, which will allow us to forge a new path forward after the destruction of our old ways.”

Most of the expressions throughout the rooms were ones of confusion— except for their friends, who were varying degrees of smug or happily surprised, and Margrave Gautier, who was clearly smarter than his contemporaries and had already figured out what was going on.

Claude made sure to lock eyes with him from across the room and give him his best diplomatic smile.

There was suddenly something much more important for him to be looking at, though— Dimitri turning to him and reaching out his hand to draw him forward.

Claude _also_ made sure that the hand he gave Dimitri was the hand that had his ring on it. He was being petty, sure, but if it made both him and Dimitri happy— well, that was the important thing.

The room was deathly silent, and Claude swore he felt the temperature _drop_ , but Dimitri’s hand was warm and his smile was as radiant as the sun, so it didn’t reach him at all.

“Crown Prince Khalid von Riegan of Almyra and I have decided to join together in a union of marriage that will cement a long and lasting friendship between our nations and our people.”

It definitely wasn’t _friendship_ Dimitri was looking at him with, but Claude was both incredibly proud of him for saying all the right words (and wondering how much time he had spent practicing them after Dedue and Felix had put him through the wringer), and incredibly in love.

Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t something to say for himself.

“Esteemed people of Faerghus,” he said, clasping the hand Dimitri had offered him tightly in his own so the two were standing there on full display, hand in hand, with Dimitri’s ring glinting brightly on his finger. “I’ve been _honoured_ to be your guest these past few weeks, and many times before that. I’m sure everyone in this room has seen more than their fill of me.”

There was a forced chuckle that went around the room, laughing at Claude’s joke that wasn’t a joke and they all knew it wasn’t.

“I’ve been working closely with Dimitri to help repair the damage done to Fodlan not only by years of war, but by everything that led to it in the first place— including its isolation. As a son of both Almyra and Fodlan, I truly wish to see a time when not only are our two nations united in friendship as Dimitri has said, but when we can all live and work alongside each other as _family_ , regardless of our differences— not just the people of Fodlan and Almyra, but the people of Duscur, Sreng, Brigid, Dagda…”

He took a particular pleasure in seeing the hackles raising on the worst of the nobles in the crowd, but he was pleasantly surprised to see very little outright indignation except from the exact people he’d been expecting to see it from. There was definitely a lot of hesitation and uncertainty— but hesitation and uncertainty he could work with. It just meant that people hadn’t made their minds up yet, and he could be _very_ persuasive.

And then— there were the happy smiling faces of Dimitri’s friends and loved ones. Dedue was standing tall and looking at Dimitri with beaming pride. Felix was still smiling, which was probably the longest Claude had ever seen him with a smile on his face outside of training. Sylvain was beaming and trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up; Ashe wasn’t trying to hide it at all, but was trying to hold himself back from weeping openly in the middle of the castle’s grand ballroom. Annette looked like she was barely holding herself back from cheering and jumping for joy. Mercedes was trying to offer Sylvain her handkerchief to dry his eyes. Ingrid looked like she couldn’t quite decide between glowing with pride and glowering at him in a silent threat that if he ever did something to hurt Dimitri she would make sure he paid for it tenfold.

Perhaps the most moving sight of all, though, was Byleth. She was staring at them with the biggest smile Claude had ever seen on her usually stoic face, practically _glowing_ with it. She reached up to wipe a single, solitary tear from her eye— and then started to clap, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room from either reverence or shock.

Soon, the other former Blue Lions were all clapping; even though there were only eight of them including Byleth, it sounded almost deafening, and made Claude swell with pride.

Some of the other nobles, those more interested in currying favour with the king than pushing their own outdated agendas, started to clap along as well. The nobles who were the most incensed, even if they were good at hiding it, were soon pressured into joining in; before long the whole room was clapping.

Claude was happy to see it, of course, but much more important was the sight of Dimitri with his head bowed— trying hard not to cry in front of everyone, even though he could tell it was a real struggle for him.

Claude squeezed his hand, and when Dimitri looked over at him, they smiled at each other, secure in the knowledge that even though things were no doubt going to be difficult in the future— especially the _near_ future— they had friends they were able to rely on, and could always count on each other.


	4. Epilogue

“You know,” Claude said as he let himself fall back dramatically onto Dimitri’s bed, spread eagle and taking up an almost obnoxious amount of space. “I would almost kill to be a fly on the wall when Lorenz finds out. I’m still trying to decide whether he’s going to give me a _stern lecture_ or whether he’s just going to tell me it was about time.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you,” Dimitri said as he sat on the edge of his bed, removing his cape and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

Claude nodded; that much he _did_ know. Of course, those two things were not mutually exclusive.

“In fact, I imagine you’ll be spending a great deal of time replying to correspondence from our former classmates, the ones that are unable to congratulate us in person.”

He also didn’t doubt that— but _that_ had an entirely _different_ realization hitting him so hard that he sat up suddenly, nearly sending Dimitri tumbling off the side of the bed in shock.

“My mother is going to _kill me_.”


End file.
